Finally!
by NogeiloGirl
Summary: Funny, how one article of clothing can make a night interesting.


Disclaimer: Richard Dean Anderson, Michael Greenburg of Gekko,   
  
etc. own the rights to Stargate. Unfortunately, I play no part. lol!   
  
If you would like to borrow this story, please ask first. Thanks! :)   
  
Title: FINALLY!   
  
****************  
  
Jack, knees screaming in pain as he carried her up the stairs, was  
  
tempted to kick open the door and be done with it. However, his  
  
new bride had other plans.  
  
"Honey, there's a key attached to my garter belt."  
  
"Which I didn't have time to take off," he grumbled.  
  
"You'll have ample time to take plenty more than that off if you   
  
unlock the door," she baited, a wicked gleam in her eyes.  
  
Hurriedly, Jack fished the key out from underneath the voluminous  
  
folds of her dress. Slipping his hand out from beneath the   
  
cumbersome gown flowing over his arms and spilling to the floor, he   
  
inserted the key into the lock--as her lace veil began to slip.  
  
"Un uh Jack, don't even think about--it!" she shrieked, as she too  
  
began to slip. Stiffly, he straightened up, re-adjusting his hold on  
  
her. "Let it go, we can come back for the veil later," Sam said as she  
  
stretched backwards over his arm to switch on the light. With a   
  
sigh, he finally set her on firm ground. Smiling, she kicked off her  
  
white, satin pumps, curling her toes into the plush, sea green carpet  
  
as she leaned upward to kiss Jack. Arms wrapped around her waist,  
  
he responded in earnest, a smile on his lips. Breathlessly, she pulled  
  
away as he unzipped the back of her dress. The white gown fell to  
  
the floor in a puddle of silk, lace and velvet, leaving her standing in  
  
nothing but two tiny pieces of white cloth. He dropped his arms   
  
from around her waist and took a step back. Jack stared in  
  
wonder at the ethereal beauty in front of him.   
  
Nervously, Sam twisted the gold band on her finger. "What's the   
  
matter? Don't you like it?"   
  
"Whoa, I . . ." he stuttered.   
  
"Jack!" she cried, throwing up her arms in frustration.   
  
"Sweetheart, you are absolutely breathtaking!"  
  
"Well, it was Janet's idea."  
  
"Remind me to thank Daniel."   
  
Sam smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "So Janet had  
  
help from a certain someone eh?"  
  
Jack squirmed under her intense gaze. "I dropped a few hints."   
  
"Uh huh. Enough about Daniel, Janet and their little one on the   
  
way." Her lips brushed his, as her hands untied his bowtie. Jack   
  
closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of her smooth lips.   
  
"Wha, what?" he hollered, snapping open his eyes.   
  
"They didn't tell you?" Sam asked, as she slowly began undoing the  
  
buttons of his shirt.   
  
"N, no. They didn't tell me," he muttered, stuffing his hands in his   
  
pockets.   
  
"Aw Jack, they've been married a month now, it's about time she   
  
became pregnant. They have really been trying and all . . ."  
  
"I'll say! No wonder Daniel has been so tired lately."   
  
"Which is what'll you'll be when it's our turn to have a little one. I   
  
want scores of miniature Jack O'Neill's running around," she stated  
  
with a wide smile as her lips captured his.   
  
Jack dipped her. "What about scores of miniature blue-eyed   
  
blondes toddling around?" he rumbled against Sam's neck, tickling  
  
her.  
  
She giggled. "That too!" Laughing, she pushed the linen shirt  
  
off his shoulders and onto the floor. Shivers tingled down her spine  
  
as Jack's warm lips slid effortlessly along her neck, throat and finally  
  
moving to her shoulder. She smiled in anticipation as he slid the   
  
straps down her shoulders.   
  
"Jack!"  
  
He felt her stiffen in his arms and pulled her upright. "What? Are  
  
you nervous?"  
  
"No, I, I just want this to be perfect--the bra snaps open in the   
  
front."  
  
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Really? I like a change of pace."   
  
Shakily, his fingers tugged on the snaps--which didn't budge.   
  
"What's the matter? Why haven't you taken it off yet?" She   
  
frowned, staring down at the still snapped together bra.   
  
"Hold your horses. It won't come off, it's stuck." Glowering at Jack,   
  
Sam rested her fingers atop his, helping him tug at the bra.  
  
"It won't come off!" she panicked, her chest heaving.   
  
"Is there an echo in here?" Jack commented dryly.  
  
"I've waited so long for you, this, everything!" she cried, her arms   
  
outstretched.   
  
"I know, I know," he said quietly, placing a comforting  
  
kiss on her lips. Wait right here and I'll go get my field knife."  
  
"Field knife!" Hands on her hips, she glared at him in astonishment.   
  
"It's not going to cut your skin, I promise."   
  
"The heck with my skin! I don't want you ruining my soft,   
  
comfortable bra," she cried, covering her arms over her chest   
  
protectively.   
  
"A cross-my-heart bra. I wonder if they make those for full-figured  
  
men like me," he quipped. Sam burst out laughing.   
  
Jack grasped her shoulders in reasuurance. "I'll be right back   
  
hon, with something . . . less damaging." Shirtless, he opened the  
  
honeymoon suite door, yanked her veil off the floor and stormed   
  
down the hall for a tool of some sort. *I don't get it, my field knife   
  
would take care of it in one fell swoop.*   
  
"For cryin' out loud, the last thing I want to be doing is playing   
  
MacGyver on my honeymoon," he muttered, searching through a  
  
toolbox in the janitor's closet. "Ah ha!" he exclaimed, pulling out a   
  
pair of pliers. He jumped up, turned to the stout wood door . . . and  
  
slammed into it, face first. "Crap, I think I broke my nose!"   
  
Some time later, a concerned Sam paced the floor anxiously, no   
  
longer enjoying the sinking feeling of her toes in the plush carpet.   
  
She glanced down at her watch, wondering what was taking him so  
  
long. "Oh," she flung her arms down in frustration, "I should have   
  
listened to Janet when she told me not to buy this thing. Even Cassie   
  
felt it wasn't practical. If I can't get it off, how can I expect my own  
  
husband to take it off!"  
  
"Precisely," a muffled voice spoke from the doorway.  
  
Sam looked up from the pensive conversation with herself. "Jack,   
  
what happened?" she demanded, rushing over to him.   
  
"Close the door, I don't want anyone to see my wife dressed like   
  
that, or okay, not so dressed like that."   
  
As Jack closed the door, Sam buried her head in his shoulder.  
  
Feeling tears against his skin, Jack tenderly pushed her back from   
  
him. Hands cradling her cheeks, he searched her face intently. "Hey,  
  
don't worry, everything will be okay. I'll find a way to get the bra   
  
off."  
  
She shook her head, "No, no, it's not about that. I'm crying happy  
  
tears because you called me your wife, and it has such a nice ring to   
  
it."  
  
Jack smiled, "Well, I rather thought husband was a very fulfilling   
  
title to be called, as long as you're the one saying it."  
  
The smile reaching her eyes, she replied, "Sweet talker."  
  
"Now, for crying out loud, tell me what happened to your nose?"   
  
Sam demanded, changing the subject. Hesitantly, she reached out to  
  
touch the metal and gauze wrapped around his nose.  
  
Jack took her hand and led her to the bed. "Well I was nosing   
  
around in the . . ." He grinned at his play on words. "In the janitor's  
  
closet for something to help us take that accursed garment off.   
  
Finding it, I jumped up and slammed into the oversized wooden   
  
door, that someone had closed."   
  
"Oh, poor baby. Want me to kiss it and make it all better?" Sam   
  
asked, leaning forward.  
  
"Uh, actually no. That's what I was getting to. We have to be very  
  
careful kissing. No nose touching. "  
  
"No problem, I am not an Eskimo."  
  
"Okay, but I don't want to get caught up in kissing you and   
  
accidentally . . ."  
  
"I'm not a country bumpkin Jack, I can handle it," Sam insisted,   
  
offended.  
  
"Alright, alright," Jack surrendered, holding up his hands.   
  
"I do have this though," he announced, pulling his field knife from   
  
behind his back.   
  
Sam sighed, "Okay, I was so hoping to do it the old fashioned way   
  
but . . ."   
  
"With my teeth," Jack supplied cheekily.   
  
"Noo," she grinned, giving him a light shove on the chest.   
  
Nuzzling her cheek, he breathed in her ear, "Now where were we?"  
  
Shivers traveled up and down her spine. "I'm cold."  
  
"Well you ought to be, you've been running around in a tinny, tiny   
  
velvet bikini for the past half hour."   
  
"Well then, what are you waiting for O'Neill? Warm me up!" she   
  
barked.  
  
"Yes Ma'am." Wrapping his arms around her, they fell back onto   
  
the bed.   
  
A split second later:   
  
*****************  
  
"Ouch! You promised," Jack accused, gingerly poking at his nose.   
  
"Sorry," Sam replied sheepishly.   
  
"Clodhopper!"   
  
"Such vocabulary," she scolded.  
  
"A little something I picked up from a certain petite, plucky Major."   
  
"Suck up. You owe me a bra O'Neill."   
  
He grinned, "Fine, one bra in exchange for five children and a   
  
happily-ever-after marriage, Carter."  
  
"I think I can manage that." Noses nearly touching, they smiled   
  
into each other's eyes.  
  
"Ya know, seven children might be better . . ."  
  
"Jaack!" Sam grinned thoughtfully, an impish gleam in her sapphire   
  
blue eyes. "We'll sleep on it."   
  
  
  
Th, that's all folks! 


End file.
